


CATharsis

by blackswans22



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Did I mention fluff?, Fluff, Forgiveness, I dont know what im doing anymore, Kittens, M/M, Mistakes, More Kittens, Old Relationships, One Shot, Truten, super fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackswans22/pseuds/blackswans22
Summary: On a morning run, Trunks finds a box of kittens. The only person he knows that works with animals is someone he hasn't spoken to in ages. Guess he has to rip that bandaid off some time. Fluff incoming.
Relationships: Trunks Briefs/Son Goten
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	CATharsis

**Author's Note:**

> As of Sept 30th, 2020, this has been an interesting couple of weeks for me. My neighbor decided to abandon 8, (8!!), kittens in her yard and I, being the sap that I am, began fostering them at 3 weeks old. Hence the inspiration for this one shot. This is by far the sappiest thing I've ever written. Did I actually write this?? Is this mine? I don't know. I'm sleep deprived by tiny monsters.
> 
> Love me some Truten and kittens, though. Art imitating life in this one. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~Blackswans

Most people hated running. Hated the idea of running. Hated talking with people that liked running. But for him, he absolutely loved it. Getting outside in the fresh air, the sun, the occasional good breeze, the scenery; it all worked for him. He even liked that the exercise forced him to push himself to a sense of accomplishment and afterward, he felt like he was a better person for it. Or maybe it was the endorphins that made him think that. In any case, rain or shine, Trunks managed to get 6 miles every day, beginning at 5 am. 

He had been running for several years since he was 20. He’d go around his apartment block, into the local park that still had a tire swing and metal slide that could fry an egg in the peak of summer heat, meander through some suburban side streets then back to his building in about an hour. 

The majority of the time, he didn’t really see anything of interest. Of course, he would see other joggers, bikers or runners. Besides that, the neighborhoods his feet traveled held the topography of the mundane, as if the world didn’t chance making trouble in the wee hours of the morning. 

He could deal with uneventful. He got plenty of chaotic disasters at his job that required his attention on a near-daily occurrence. He appreciated the lack of abnormality as he added mile after mile to his trainers. 

At 5 on an average Tuesday, he got up and set the coffee pot to brew while he was gone so there’d be a fresh pot when he returned. Sneakers on, music queued at his earbuds, and a few stretches later, he headed out into the crisp air of morning to the sound of residual crickets serenading potential mates as his feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pace like every day. 

Rounding the block, he set his sights on the park ahead, passing through the archway maw of English ivy and around the weathered wooden sandbox and play area. He followed the path making sure to avoid the patches of asphalt that lifted like tiny earthquakes from rebellious overhanging trees that sent out roots to destroy the impact of man attempting to keep them under containment. 

It was when he rounded the park’s last patch of trees threatening to intersect into the pathway completely, that he spied a tiny moving creature making its way out from under darkened, leafy bushes. He was used to seeing the remnants of nocturnal animals on their final prowl of the evening before the sun’s brightness forced them to their homes like adorable four-legged vampires. This creature that crossed his path was far too small and slow to be something his brain automatically recognized and ignored. It ambled in a wary, hobbling sort of way and as he approached, he slowed to a stop to scrutinize the strange thing curiously. 

As he pulled an earbud out and got down on his haunches a short distance away, a high pitched cry cut through the early dawn. It looked up in his direction. He clicked his tongue at it.

“A cat?” He observed as it cowered briefly before recognizing a nonthreatening giant and padded to him. He picked up the mewling thing, dirty and thin, crying pitifully as he cupped it in the palm of his hand against his chest protectively. 

As the kitten tried to chew at his thumb with tiny teeth, he perked up as the meowing from the one in his hand caused a yowling of attention-seeking meows from deeper in the bush. The first rays of day peeked through the trees and he was able to bend back branches to find a makeshift cardboard home filled with squirming, wriggling, and loud felines. 

Struck by both panic of what to do when one finds a box of cats in the middle of a park and disgusted that someone would just  _ leave _ a box of cats in the middle of a park, he made the split-second decision and picked up the worn brown vessel, careful to hold it at the bottom as tiny faces peered up at him with desperation they stridently voiced.

He had managed to get the box back to his apartment and counted out 6 shorthaired babies in greys, browns and one yellow barely visible under dirt and dust. Now that the little shrill treasures were in his house, he scratched his head anxiously wondering what to do when a thought came to mind. 

He groaned as he rubbed a hand into his eye. As far as animals went,  _ his _ help was better than none. He reluctantly glanced at the clock on the stovetop. It was 6:30 and Trunks had a box of screaming kittens in his apartment. He hoped the recipient on the other end of the phone line wouldn't be too upset with him as he pressed ‘call’ and placed the phone to his ear. 

The line picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” The sleepy voice answered and Trunks cringed. He felt bad for calling so early but felt worse knowing the man on the other end wouldn't have been happy to talk with him even during the daytime. 

“Hey.” Trunks began, shutting himself in his room to muffle the noise from the living room. “It’s me.” He added awkwardly. 

“Okay.” 

Trunks swallowed. He missed that voice. “I uhhh… I have a cat. Cats.” He mumbled.

“Cats?”

“Yea. Umm, I think… they’re babies and uhh.. They, uh, keep crying and-”

“I’m confused. Did you get a cat?” The voice inquired with slight irritation.

“I found them.” Trunks stated, flustered that he was having such a difficult time articulating anything with him.

“I don't understand.” The receiver replied curtly. “Trunks, why did you call me?”

Trunks bit his tongue. The sharpness in tone made for a very unpleasant pinch in the pit of his stomach. 

“I was out running and I found a box of cats and the only person I know who deals with animals is you so I wanted to know if you could check them out please.” He finally spat out in one breath. 

“What? I- I dunno. Can’t you take them somewhere? I don’t know if I should come by-”

“‘Ten. I’m asking for your help.” 

He heard a deep sigh at the other end. “Fine. Kittens you said? How old?”

“I dunno. They’re super little though.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” The line ended before Trunks could say ‘thanks’. Or ‘I appreciate it’. Or ‘I’m sorry’. 

It was amazing how long an hour could feel when staring down at 6 tiny, angry babies with only a sorrowful expression and supportive head pats as the maximum amount of help one could provide until real assistance showed up. Finally, he heard a purposeful knock at the door and raced over to unlock the deadbolt. 

“Hi.” Trunks said with a small smile then immediately pulled it back as the face of the dark-haired man looked less than cheerful. He strode in wearing grey sweatpants and sweatshirt like he had just rolled out of bed, a clinical look about him as he assessed the box tenants, prodding lightly and moving them about in careful hands, like a nurse during triage. Trunks stood back and watched Goten silently evaluate his patients as they screamed for help. The wailing made Trunks sweat. Goten remained calm as an untouched lake. 

“Well, despite the lethargy and dehydration, they look okay.” He finally said, standing up and opening the canvas bag Trunks only just noticed he had with him. 

He pulled out three empty plastic bottles, several sized rubber nipples, and a can of infant cat formula and wet food. Trunks tilted his head and followed Goten to the kitchen where he turned on the faucet to run warm water before plugging up the sink and letting it fill. 

“You came prepared.” Trunks remarked unsure of what else to say while in his presence.

Goten shrugged as he filled all three of the bottles with warmed water and formula and began to shake them while turning off the faucet.

“Do you want to feed or bathe?” He asked dryly.

Disheartened by how Goten was reacting with him but determined to take some responsibility with his new roommates, he held out his hand. “Feed.”

“Just make sure to not force it. They’ll be confused at first but if you give them a little, they should start eating.” Goten instructed as he picked up one enraged ball of fur coated in dirt, dipped it into unscented soapy water, scrubbed and dried the animal delicately before handing it to Trunks. 

Noticing Goten was avoiding eye contact as he went to fetch another kitten to clean, the violet haired man tried to gingerly feed one of the less wriggly ones. He soon learned they all were plenty wriggly as he attempted to coax it to eat until its crying face was more milk than dirt. Seeing how Trunks struggled with the creature, Goten slung the towel in his hand over his shoulder and placed the second kitten in the crook of his arm.

“No, no. Like this.” Goten corrected as he helped place the baby to Trunks’ chest and directed the bottle into the cat’s mouth. In the process, Goten had to get particularly close, press his shoulder into the older man and hold his hand with the bottle. Trunks couldn’t help the mild elation. It was short-lived as Goten went back to the sink once the babe began to suckle with abandon. 

The remainder of the 5 kittens went from Goten to Trunks in an almost assembly-line fashion with Goten also on bottle replacement duty as Trunks had no idea how to calculate how much formula to milk without getting overwhelmed. The whole process was rather stressful for the impulsive rescuer who had led a life of petless bachelor contentment that was quiet and sparsely furnished.

Goten, on the other hand, hadn’t been anything but professional since entering the apartment. He carried on with an exceptional bedside manner to his infantile patients with compassion and efficiency. Trunks remembered fondly envying Goten’s ability to let even the worst of troubles wash away without too much agitation. Like a river that moves with the land, Goten had the unique personality to take everything in stride even in times of flood or drought. Trunks recalled being grateful for the times when Goten’s sunny day disposition would transfer to him when he needed it. He missed that, too.

Within an hour, the kittens had finally been fed sufficiently to the point of passing out in whosoever lap they stood on. Goten sat cross-legged on the floor, absentmindedly petting the sandy orange furball as a dark grey nuzzled in his other arm. Trunks had 4 kittens in a stacked mound of purring and mewling between his legs as he tried to hold still so as not to jostle his tiny snoozing brood. He looked over at the time and realized maybe today would be a fine day to call in sick as he yawned as quietly as he could. Taking care of babies was exhausting. 

He glanced up to see the other man observing him with those dark brown eyes he remembered agonizingly well.

Trunks cleared his throat as he averted his gaze. “Thanks for coming over.” He said in a hushed voice.

“No worries,” Goten replied while cocking his head. “What would you have done if I didn’t show up?”

Trunks chuckled. “I honestly don't know. You were the only person with experience I could call. The first person I thought of.” He added wistfully.

Goten dropped his eyes. “You used to think my experience wasn’t all that helpful.” He mumbled sourly.

Trunks didn't expect their past to come up between them so quickly. Or for it to still hurt so much.

“Goten,” he began. “I-”

Before he could finish, Goten removed the two kittens from his person, who mewled unhappily until placed on a warm blanket and covered to imitate night. “I have to go. I have class in a couple hours. I’ll text you a list of instructions.”

Trunks' mouth opened and closed like a fish as he watched Goten get ready to leave. “Wait.” Was all he managed.

Goten turned at the open front door and Trunks tensed under the other man’s gaze while still seated on the floor. The look reminded him of the last time they talked. The last time they hung out. The last time Trunks said things he couldn’t take back. This time, there were no tears. The look still stung. 

With a sigh, Goten dropped the pained expression on his face for a quick tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay? Will you be here?”

“Yea.” he croaked. “I’m gonna take the day off.”

“‘Kay. If you put them under the blanket, they’ll sleep longer. I’ll come back after class.” He replied vacantly.

The door closed softly and the sound made Trunks pinch his eyes shut. When he opened them again, wetness dotted his lashes without his permission. 

* * *

True to his word, Goten did return with a soft knock on the front portal. When Trunks finally managed to get the door open, Goten looked at him with surprise. The whole living room was covered in blankets and towels, a few piles of soiled paper towels had been scattered around the wood flooring, there were screaming kittens hobbling to the door and a frazzled Trunks with a bottle in one hand and a cat in the other as he elbowed the door open. 

“Hi.” Trunks uttered. He felt as if he had aged 10 years in 6 hours. 

It was the first time he had seen Goten smile in months as a grin broke through the mask of indifference he was trying to maintain. Trunks smiled back. If it took complete dishevelment to make that man smile, it was worth it.

“Give it here,” Goten said as he took both cat and bottle in hand and waded through what was left of walkable living space. “You look terrible.” 

“I haven’t taken a shower yet.”

Goten shook his head as he began to feed the pitiful kittens. “You didn’t think to do that while they were sleeping?”

“I was worried they’d wake up.” He mumbled sheepishly.

Snorting, Goten piled some of the dirtier towels in a corner for room to move. “Go. I’ll watch them.”

Thanking him, Trunks beelined it to the bathroom grateful for the chance to rejuvenate under searing hot water. It was nice having his old friend around. Maybe not romantically anymore but he was relieved there was still something left in the friendship that Goten had answered the call and came over the first time and now the second, despite earlier hesitance. For a while there, Trunks had even wondered if the other man still considered them friends.

Freshly showered and glad the noise in his home had simmered down again, he watched the dark-haired man dote on the little creatures. 

Since he’d known him, Goten had always been the animal whisperer. He was comfortable handling both big and small with a gentle soothing presence that made even the toughest beast putty to his words. He pursued a career in the field of animal caregiving. Trunks pulled a face regretfully with how he had responded to the news at the time. 

“Your work was okay with you taking a day?” Goten said without looking up. He must have felt himself being watched. “I remember how busy it used to be. Still like that?” He added. 

Trunks’ pursed his lips fully aware of the underlying implications in Goten’s words. He worked at a very high pressure, high paying engineering office for the city and, during the time that Goten and Trunks were romantically involved, that pressure affected their relationship eventually. There wasn’t a Goten sized umbrella big enough to quell the tumultuous rainfall that was Trunks under frequent extreme strain. After a year at the bigger job, he left that position for one lower pay and less pressure, learning to tackle his issues with stress management and self-reflection. Both changes in his life helped shape him to a better, whole person. 

Sadly, their relationship didn’t weather the storm.

“I changed jobs a couple months ago. I like my new one better.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” Handing over a kitten and a bottle, Goten seemed uncomfortable and changed topics. “So these little guys are about 4 weeks old. I found someone who can foster them but they’re pretty swamped right now. They asked me if you could watch them for a month while they get set up to take on more cats. I told them I’d ask you.”

“A month?” He balked. So far, he had trouble watching them for one day. 

Seeing his apprehension, Goten chimed in. “I could help. If you can keep them here, I can help. There’s no room at my apartment.”

Trunks' chest swelled at the offer. It was his chance to be around him, talk to him, be friendly again. There was no way he would let it slip by. 

Trying not to sound so enthusiastic. “Sure. I think I can handle it.”

* * *

The adjustment went faster than he expected, much to his relief, thanks to the tag-teamed efforts of his… Well, he wasn’t sure what Goten was to him yet. Certainly acquaintances. Possibly friends. They were so busy with babies turning into toddling terror beasts, he was too exhausted to really bring it up.

After week 2, their routine consisted of Goten being present between his classes while Trunks took over at night. They had some moments of light, pleasant conversation between giving baths and refilling empty dishes of mashed wet cat food. 

At 6 weeks, the kittens were becoming more sociable and beginning litter box training. Goten had a makeshift chart for every cat with weight and development, taking notes on progress for the next foster home and eventual adoption. The catalog intrigued Trunks as he sat on the floor, a grey and tabby playing with each other and his socked toes, the gingerbread colored cat supplementally bottle-fed then placed on his shoulder to mess with his lavender hair. It was new to see Goten in such a studious role and he smiled at the dark-haired man’s diligence.

“Your notes are so organized.” He finally said.

“It’s good practice,” Goten replied without looking up. Trunks knew he was in graduate school that he had heard about only through mutual friends. It was a subject they avoided talking about. Until then. 

Trunks bit his tongue and decided to take a chance. “How uhh.. How much time do you have left?” He inquired tentatively. 

He heard Goten exhale audibly through his nose. “A few more years.”

“And it's going well?”

“Well enough. It's hard.” He responded in clipped sentences.

Trunks drew his brows together and pressed a little more. “It’s cool you went for it. Being a real vet is a great accomplishment.” 

He flinched slightly at his own choice of words. In an attempt to not  _ sound _ condescending, he inadvertently chose the wrong verbiage. 

Goten glanced up clearly insulted. “A real vet? ‘Cause I wasn’t real before?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He tried to backtrack. “I mean you’re putting so much into the higher degree. It’s really cool.”

“But when I was a vet tech, it wasn’t worth it, right?” He bit back.

Trunks winced. “You’re still mad.” He said, hanging his head in shame. 

“Mad enough to find ‘motivation’ to go back to school,” he remarked rather bitterly. “You’re probably right, though. Why should I still be mad when my  _ boyfriend _ told me, almost verbatim, ‘going into veterinary science is a fucking waste of time’.”

He was lucky there was a cat near his face to at least hide some of the redness that burned in his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Goten began to pack up his book bag and lifted himself from the floor. “Nope. And I shouldn’t have let it affect me. You weren’t my life coach. I didn’t want to be an engineer like you. I didn’t want to be a lot of what you suggested. But it’s hard to ignore someone that you lo-” He cut himself off as he drew his dark eyebrows together. “I let you tell me what to do when we were together and I was miserable. Thankfully, I live my own life now. The way I want to.”

Before Trunks could say anything further, Goten left quickly and didn't return for the second shift of the evening as usual. _ It was probably for the best _ , Trunks surmised. He pushed too hard.

* * *

Days later, his head swiveled as he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing as well as the padding across the kitchen floor. Trunks had moved the kittens, who were now in virtually adolescent destruction mode, into his bedroom and were engaged with finding new adversaries in the shape of a dastardly tasseled blanket or wayward evil shoelace. 

“We’re in here.” Trunks called and perked up when Goten entered the room. He leaned up against the door frame and looked an awful lot like he had something to say. 

It had been over a year and a half since they ended things on such a sour note. They didn’t even stay in contact over that time. With the discovery of the cats and the subsequent turn from strangers to allies in kitten rearing, there was still so much unsaid between them. There was still an understandable lingering tension. Trunks was lying on his stomach playing with the rambunctious tabby when he took the initiative to say what he couldn’t all those months ago.

“I didn’t mean to tell you what to do.” He began. 

Goten pinched his lips together wholly unconvinced but didn’t drop his gaze. 

“I mean it. I remember you being unsure of what you wanted to do. I suggested engineering, I think.” Trunks murmured as he scratched the back of one of the cats.

“I remember things differently. You basically told me what to pursue. I didn’t know what I wanted, sure, but I distinctly recall saying I wanted to work with animals. I liked it, so I tried being a vet tech.” Trunks could see a visible twitch to his jaw as he reminisced. 

“I shouldn’t have meddled. I thought I was helping.”

“You didn’t really listen to me," Goten replied, sounding more hurt than angry.

Trunks extended his hand in a plaintive gesture of goodwill. “Come, sit. Please?”

He was surprised when Goten moved with slow cautious steps towards him and took his hand if only to guide himself to one end of the bed. Goten still observed him with distrustful and wounded eyes.

“Look, I can't take back what I said. And honestly, it took me leaving my other job to really understand why people do something that they love, not for the money or the prestige. If you wanted to do vet tech stuff, I should have been supportive. No one should dictate what someone else does with their life. Especially not … a significant other.” He looked up and waited for a response.

Goten scratched a needy cat under the chin as it purred while he listened intently. “You do sound like you feel bad.”

Trunks chuckled as he sat up and crossed his legs. He was glad to see Goten responding to him in kind after all that time. “Yea. I feel like an asshole.” He admitted.

“You could say sorry.” The edge of Goten’s lip raised with light humor.

Smirking while realizing he should have led with that in the first place, Trunks shook his head relenting. “I’m sorry, ‘Ten. Being a vet tech isn’t a waste. If it makes you happy, then that’s what matters. I’m sorry I was such a prick.”

Goten smiled genuinely. “It’s cool.”

“So can we be friends?” He asked.

“Yea. I guess.” Goten teased. 

Goten readjusted his arms so that his palms were flat on the mattress, holding himself upright. His hand was close enough to touch Trunks’ hand but stop only a digit’s width away. Noticing the gesture, Trunks closed the gap and hooked his pointer finger around the other man’s. His chest swelled as Goten reciprocated with another finger. They locked eyes as Trunks felt a blush then was startled with a snicker as he looked down feeling the miniature paws and claws of the sandy kitten walking without a care over their joined hands. 

"Can we start over?" Trunks looked up expectantly. 

In response, Goten scooched close enough to rest his head on Trunks' shoulder which he readily accepted as progress. 

"I’d like that." The dark hair man replied. "I did kinda miss you."

* * *

The full month passed in a blur and as the kittens, who developed into precocious and sneaky little hunters, grew into miniature versions of their biological parents.

It was tough for their surrogate parents to say goodbye as a woman with the stray cat rescue showed up to assist in adopting out 5 of the 6 kittens in the rambunctious brood. 

As Goten wished her luck, Trunks scratched the tawny yellow-haired tabby on his shoulder. Happy they made a decision together to keep the little imp, it rubbed its head into Trunks' neck as it purred. As Goten watched the car drive away, he grasped Trunks’ hand with intention. There was a soft smile on his face as the two squeezed hands. Despite all the hardships in the past, Trunks was grateful for the chance to begin anew and make things right. 

  
  



End file.
